


Rebuilding

by bethagain



Series: Rebuilding [1]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Han and Leia and Ben will turn up too, Post-RotJ, Pre-TFA, tags to be updated as new scenes are posted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 05:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11616555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethagain/pseuds/bethagain
Summary: Luke reluctantly agrees to teach other Force-sensitives to be Jedi.Or something like Jedi.Truth is, he has no idea how to teach and very little idea what Jedi training actually looks like.But it's Luke Skywalker, y'know? He's going to jump in with both feet anyway.





	1. First Day

**Author's Note:**

> These are scenes from a work in progress that some friends encouraged me to post. I was going to wait until the whole story was ready, but December is coming up fast and it's probably all going to be rendered obsolete by canon, anyway.
> 
> So come along now for some glimpses through the hanger door and, later, of life on the planet Miriyan, where Luke and his students will be setting up their school. He's making mistakes, figuring out answers, and sometimes even getting this teacher thing right.
> 
> ~~Scenes will be numbered in at least vague chronological order, with new ones popping in as they get finished and edited.~~ _It's now a series. Made more sense for posting things out of order. Bookmark/subscribe to Rebuildingas a series<\--THIS LINK HERE if you want to know when new bits are posted._
> 
> It's basically a string of short stories and visions, that might someday be a coherent whole. Please be patient with timeline glitches and similar frustrations. I'm still making mistakes, too, and figuring out answers, and maybe I'll even get some of it right.
> 
> p.s. This is in the same timeline as my story All the Right Reasons, or at least mostly so. I think.

It had sounded good when he announced it on the holovid, speaking to the entire Galaxy about rebuilding a legend. But the Alliance budget was already evaporating as sponsoring planets peeled off to join the New Republic.

Luke Skywalker’s Jedi school got its start in a decommissioned hangar with a few small, dusty offices and a conference room filled with broken furniture along one side. 

Luke was up late many nights in the weeks before, trying to get some plans in place and wondering what he'd gotten himself into. He spent hours writing and deleting ideas for lessons. He spent hours more lying wide awake in bed, trying to visualize how things should go. Finally, he gave up and decided to wing it. 

After that, he slept just fine.

The hangar floor that first morning was a mess of broken engine components, dented panels from decommissioned ships, and puddles of oil. The galaxy's new future Jedi knights spent their first day sweeping, mopping, and boxing up hunks of metal to be hauled away for recycling. 

Luke mopped and swept right along with them, sleeves rolled up, sneezing at dust. He thought of the old pictures, of solemn men and women looking mysterious in their hooded robes. Those outfits had varied little over the hundreds of years the Jedi kept peace in the galaxy. The clothing must have been a signal for honor and respect, anywhere they went. 

Oh well. On Dagobah it had been work pants and shirts with the sleeves ripped off. Luke saw no reason to change that.

His students kept staring at him as he manhandled heavy engine parts into containers. 

Were they expecting him to float everything away using the Force? 

Or were they wondering why he didn’t rate a cleaning crew? 

Luke wished he knew these people better. They all knew who he was: Luke Skywalker, the kid who came out of nowhere to win them the Battle of Yavin. He'd done a lot of things in the years since then and had the scars to prove it. But somehow it all came back to that day, to the moment he turned off the targeting computer, scared the crap out of the control room, and turned the tide of the war. 

The Force had saved them then.

And now that there was peace, everyone seemed to think the Force could stop the galaxy from going down that road again.

Luke wasn’t at all sure of that. The Force was a tool, and only as powerful--and as honorable--as its wielder. He'd learned that lesson the hard way, more than once. 

_If it took all that to pound the truth into my brain,_ he thought, wrestling a heavy control board up off the floor, _why do I think I can pound it into anyone else's?_

But if thinking about trying to fill Yoda's shoes had kept him up at night, thinking of leaving these people with no guidance at all was worse. The combination of lying awake and feeling nauseated had finally driven him to say yes. He would teach these people to be Jedi.

Or, anyhow, something like Jedi. Luke had only known two, and he suspected that things had gotten a little unorthodox by then.

“Hey! Skywalker!” The voice from across the hangar was Andra Farr. They'd flown together a few times, when the Alliance was still fighting against the Empire. “These power cells still have juice. You’re just going to have us toss them?”

Andra was holding up a handful of components, wires trailing down to her knees. She still had the same bright red hair he remembered, the same plump curves. He remembered her even more for her quick thinking and her competence in the cockpit of an A-wing. 

Those rare times they’d shared a mission, Andra had been all cool professionalism. When they first met, Luke was a raw recruit just off the farm, and she was a seasoned pilot. She put up with his ignorance of protocol and his tendency to fly an X-wing like a skyhopper, but she made it clear she wasn’t happy about it. He was a lot more competent the next time they crossed paths, but she hadn’t ever warmed to him.

Still, she was here willingly. She deserved to have a teacher. He’d do his best.

“Let me take a look.” He walked over to see. 

Her gaze, as he crossed the room to her, was steady and her eyes just the slightest bit narrowed. Luke recognized the look from his years leading squadron briefings. There was another question going unspoken. 

“Go ahead,” he said, as he took one of the power cells from her. “Ask.”

“You walked,” she said, “all the way over here.” It sounded like an accusation. “Why didn't you--” She made a gesture with her arm, a sort of open-handed reach. 

“Like this?” He opened his hand and caused another power cell to rise from the floor, drift a few meters over, then rest between them in mid-air.

“Yeah.” Andra said, eyes now on the metal cylinder refusing to fall. “Why not give us some Force help with the clean-up here? Or is this just a test to see if we’re serious?”

You didn't command a flight of smart, independent pilots without getting used to talkback. Luke had learned to listen to it, because sometimes they were right. So it took a moment for him to understand why his muscles had tensed at her question, why a bit of static was buzzing at the back of his brain. He was feeling defensive.

He set the feeling aside. It was a reasonable thing to ask. Who wouldn't want to sit back and let the Force do the heavy lifting for them, if they could? 

Luke rested a hand under the power cell and let its mass turn to weight again.

“It still takes energy,” he said. “I can wear myself out doing this--” and behind him, a full crate lifted off the floor-- “or I can get up and move things by hand, and not watch my body waste away to nothing.” The crate settled back down again as the other students gathered around.

Ariel Madine, just seventeen years old and so thin that she looked fragile, stood a few paces away. Her eyes were wide in a serious face under tight black curls, a smudge of dust making a pale spot on her forehead.

Ariel was General Madine's only child. The first time Luke had encountered her at headquarters he’d stopped in his tracks, struck by the presence of this young person quietly reading on a pocket computer while the business of war swirled around her. She’d met his gaze with solemn dark eyes and Luke had quickly moved on, mortified at having been caught gaping at a thirteen year old girl. 

He'd kept an eye on her since then, though, watching for any sign that she knew what she had. Or what danger it could put her in. Ariel had grown up witnessing battles and hearing how the Force could turn the tide. But she'd seemed surprised when--with her father's permission--Luke invited her to join this training. 

Ariel hadn't said a word today since a shy hello, early that morning. Still, every time Luke looked her way she was hard at work, moving smaller items or sweeping up after a spot was cleared. 

Jaspet An’takar was brushing dirt from his jumpsuit as he walked over to them, his pointed white teeth bared in a grin. Sweat added extra gleam to his golden skin. “About time! Thought you were going to have us moving this druk all day.”

I was, Luke thought, fighting down the defensiveness again and wondering if that was quite the way a student should talk to his teacher. Jaspet was a pilot, too, though, and it was certainly the way pilots talked to each other. Well, Luke didn't, so much--that kind of language would have gotten him a swat from Aunt Beru, and old habits died hard.

Luke let go of the power cell again and it hung in the air, wires trailing. 

Jaspet looked delighted. Andra’s eyes were narrowed again, as if she were waiting for it to fall. 

The fourth student, Helena, stood tall, solemn, and silent. She was known, in the Rebellion days, for bringing her ground troops home both victorious and alive. Luke had announced that morning that rank was immaterial here, but all day she’d been taking instructions as though they were orders. He could almost hear the unspoken Yes, sir. He wondered if she considered this an opportunity, or simply another mission.

Ariel reached out a slender hand. “May I try?”

Not so shy after all, then.

Luke hadn't planned to start with this. He'd figured they’d spend the first day clearing out a space to work, maybe getting to know each other a bit. Second day, he'd try them all out with a drone, same way Ben had done for him. Something simple, something relatively harmless if they failed. 

He didn't think they would, though. It might take a few tries, but they'd get it. Those first steps had been so easy.

It was only later that things got hard.

_Well,_ Luke thought. _Here goes._

“Andra says this power cell still works,” he said, catching it and crouching to set it gently on the floor. “It can take a little practice before you get the hang of this.” He picked up a palm-sized washer that was lying among the debris. Nothing intimidating, not too heavy, wouldn't hurt too much if it landed on someone’s foot.

He placed the washer in Ariel’s hand.

Ariel stretched her arm out, palm up, the washer resting flat. “How do I…?”

Ben had shown him this, with bolts and wrenches and drivers on board the Falcon. Yoda had taught him to do this, with stones and heavy crates, with a simple strength of belief that defied the very rules of the universe. 

Luke was painfully aware that he had no idea how to teach anyone else.

“It's not _doing_ so much as _letting,_ ” he said, trying to put words onto something he did by feel. “You have to clear your mind of the idea that it's any different than the air around it.”

“But it is different,” Ariel said, confused. “Air is made up of oxygen and nitrogen, they're lighter than metal. That's why it's air.”

“That's one way to think about it,” he tried, feeling like it was far too obvious that he didn’t know how to explain. 

“Close your eyes,” he tried. It had worked for him, that first time warding off drone blasts with Ben's lightsaber.

Ariel followed instructions immediately, standing there with arm outstretched, face still, dark lashes against her brown skin. _So much trust,_ Luke thought. He wondered if he ought to send her home to her father with a letter pinned to her shirt. _Dear General Madine, I'm sorry, I have no idea how to teach your child._

But he'd have to add, _So good luck, and I hope the dark side never finds her. Because, run for your life if it does._

“Within the Force,” Luke said, trying to sound wise and confident, “the air, your hand, and that washer are all the same.” That wasn’t exactly right, but it ought to do for a beginner. 

“The same energy flows in your thoughts, through your arm, through the air, around that piece of metal.” Why did talking about the Force always sound like some mystical religion? It had sounded fine coming from Yoda, but Yoda was so ancient he'd practically seen the dawn of the Jedi. He could get away with that stuff. 

“If you understand that,” Luke went on, trying to keep it practical, “if you believe it, you can set that washer down anywhere. On a table. In my hand. In the air in front of you.”

A little furrow took shape in Ariel's forehead. Her chest moved as she took several slow breaths. Eyes still shut, she turned her wrist with quick confidence.

The washer immediately clattered to the floor.

Ariel jumped at the noise. Eyes open again, she looked down at the washer sadly.

Luke felt as though he was the one who'd failed.

He started to tell her, “This isn't easy,” even though he only had his own experience to go on. Even though for him, at least in the beginning, it had been.

“Good try!” Jaspet said cheerfully, his deep voice drowning Luke out. He slung a long, double-elbowed arm around Ariel's narrow shoulders. “I bet even Skywalker here didn't get it the first time.”

Luke thought, again, _I should probably speak to him about who’s in charge here._ But Ariel’s expression changed from disappointment to determination as Jaspet gave her an encouraging nudge. She was already reaching down to pick up the washer again. Wedge Antilles had sent Jaspet over from Rogue Squadron (“He’s almost as good a pilot as you are, Luke. That's gotta be supernatural.”) and Luke felt a rush of gratitude. 

“Well,” he admitted, “Actually for that the levitation thing, I did get it the first time. But,” he added, “the very first time I tried to harness the Force? I ended up with an electrical burn on my backside.”

“Oh you've got to tell us about that one,” Andra said. She was smiling, but there was something in her voice that still sounded… skeptical. Like she was waiting for him to mess this up. 

Jaspet just sounded amused. “Will you?” 

Helena was still standing at parade rest, politely silent, eyes and mouth still. Luke could have reached out to read her emotions, see what she thought about all of this, but he’d already made that rule for himself: He wasn’t going to pry.

“Stories tomorrow,” he promised them all. “Today let's finish getting this place cleared up.”

His students went back to work willingly, but Luke didn't need any special senses to feel their disappointment. He made a point of helping with some of the heaviest pieces, letting the others hang back and watch while he floated crates and metal on a current of Force energy, so they’d see that there really was something to look forward to.


	2. Back to Basics

It took two cycles in the refresher to get the dust off. Even then there was dirt on the towel when Luke, always too impatient to wait for the drying jets, rubbed at his hair. He tossed the day’s shirt and trousers in the laundry chute, considered getting dressed again and seeing what was for supper at the mess hall, and decided he didn’t feel like talking to anyone. 

They’d have questions about how the first day went. He wasn’t sure he would know the answers. 

Luke dug out an old orange jumpsuit, soft and comfortable, so worn it had holes at the knees and one elbow. He kept a stash of protein bars in a drawer, a habit left over from the days he’d get back from battle at all hours, too tired to hold a fork. He picked one up, tearing open the flexiplast wrapper with his teeth as he used the other hand to move some data tapes from a chair to the floor, then picked up the portable vidphone.

He dialed a number, crossing the few steps to the tiny cooking area to get some water. The ‘phone buzzed quietly, trying to connect. 

No answer. Leia must be off somewhere, and Ben with her. He thought about trying the radio on the _Falcon_ , but Han would just say, “You can do this, kid.” 

It didn’t really matter if he _could_ do it, he’d already decided he was _going_ to do it. 

Luke set down the half-finished protein bar and lifted a training drone down off a shelf, dislodging several more data tapes that fell to the floor. He picked them up and balanced them back on the shelf again. 

He’d have to get this stuff organized one day soon.

There was just enough space in the center of the room to swing a lightsaber through a full arc, if he was careful. Luke switched on the drone and let it hang in the air a meter away. 

What would someone who’d never done this before need to know? Ben Kenobi had put this ancient weapon in his hands, shown him the first beginnings of what it could do, of what Luke could do…. and then gone and died at the hands of his former pupil.

Luke had figured out a lot on his own after the Battle of Yavin. He took stupid chances in air battles, suicidal stunts that probably should have gotten him killed. He snuck into the practice range after hours, not even sure how many rules he was violating as he wielded a blaster with eyes closed, one-handed, behind his back, the shots getting more and more accurate over time as he tapped into the energy between himself and the targets. 

He’d set up one, and then two, and then several remotes, taking hits over and over and over again until, finally, he could knock away nine bolts out of ten with the lightsaber. Those tenth bolts had still left burns and bruises on his hands, his neck, his face, and plenty of less visible places. He took the other pilots’ ribbing with good nature, even though he was sure the reason he got clapped on the shoulder so often was more teasing than camaraderie.

He’d learned so much more on Dagobah. 

But that was so different. He remembered the first night there, sitting on muddy ground with a mud-drenched R2-D2. _It’s like something out of a dream._ It had been, too. Breathing thick, water-logged air. Listening to Yoda’s strange cadences and stranger words. Running for hours, dodging vines and roots and the things that lived among them, feeling the mysterious energy humming in his brain.

What would his new students, three battle-worn soldiers and a war-weary child, have made of those fever-dream days? 

Luke ignited his lightsaber, the green-bladed weapon he’d built himself. It sang in his hands, its raw energy constrained, controlled, shaped by force of will and physics into an elegant shaft of light that would cut through durasteel and cleave a living body in two.

It would also take out his shelves and go right through the wall to his neighbor’s quarters, if he wasn’t careful. 

He’d nearly gotten himself banished from Alliance housing, back in the early days. How much time had he spent dodging Facilities staff? He’d had to enlist Han, Chewbacca, and Wedge more than once to help hide broken furniture, the four of them sneaking replacements from Supply in the small hours of the morning.

Luke had more spacious living quarters now, assigned when he'd accepted this new role. The Alliance's admirals seemed to think Master Skywalker should have quarters fitting his new responsibility. Luke just wanted space to keep every scroll, book, and tape about the Jedi Order that he could find. 

Now, standing among stacks of printed and electronic data, Luke sent a twitch through the Force. The remote’s energy darts switched on. He had his lightsaber up and moving before the first pulse was across the room. He knocked away a few dozen bolts, Force sense and muscle memory making it effortless.

Effortless. 

That was the problem. 

Luke set the drone to pause and thumbed the power button on the lightsaber’s hilt. The blade shrank, then winked out as its power drained back into the carefully shaped crystal that housed it.

What had it felt like, before? _Painful_ was the first word that came to mind. Bruises, aching muscles, overworked joints. _Embarrassing_ was another. Han Solo’s teasing didn’t sting anymore, hadn’t for many years. But sometimes in quiet hours Luke still flashed back to the older man’s baleful looks and dismissive words, and to his own wounded teenage pride. 

And then there was _terrifying_. The more Luke had learned about the Force, the more he’d realized how much he didn’t know. Early on, it was anyone’s guess whether he’d be able to pull another trick like the one above Yavin, or would end up muddling through battles like any other bush pilot with good reflexes but no formal training.

Even now, there were times when his concentration slipped, when he dropped suddenly from sensing where each blaster bolt or cannon laser would land to a moment of near-blindness, eyes working but higher senses gone silent. Each time, there was a moment of paralyzed fear until he could reconnect or, failing that, turn around and run. 

Painful, embarrassing, and terrifying. And he had four people to teach. Five, if the retired Senator from Pamarth turned up. A subspace transmission yesterday evening said he’d been delayed by an urgent diplomatic conference. 

Luke had watched his sister Leia navigate life in the Capitol for several years now. It was entirely possible that Dat Marant’s interest was only political. That he would continue to be “delayed” until the others were already full-fledged Jedi.

If Luke could even figure out what being a Jedi really meant.

He walked over to the hovering drone and adjusted a switch so that triggering it would fire only one bolt at a time. He crossed back to the opposite side of the room and left the lightsaber dark, hanging quietly at his hip, as he sent out a thought to turn the drone’s firing mechanism on. 

A bolt of red light shot out and hit him in the thigh.

_Ow._

It hurt, but it was bearable. He could feel the deep ache that portended a bruise.

He triggered the drone again. This time, the bolt hit him in the chest. He staggered back a step.

Still on my feet, though, he thought. _This is what it felt like, before I had these skills. If I'm going to teach them, I need to remember._

He triggered the drone one more time.


	3. Trust

If he’d gotten his head around _painful_ the night before, this morning had the corner on _embarrassment_.

“Get in a bar fight, Jedi Master?” Jaspet didn’t even hesitate.

Helena, already at work cleaning up the last of the debris, came over to assess his black eye with a field medic’s efficiency. She had to lean down to get a closer look, and Luke--who had spent years taking out opponents who towered over him--found himself trying to stand up taller. “Doesn’t look like it needs medbay, sir.”

He thanked her. “We’re not using rank here, though, remember?”

She nodded as she stepped back, brisk and solemn. 

Andra and Ariel, just arrived, came up to join them. Luke could tell when Ariel noticed what he'd done to his face, because her gaze slid away as she pretended not to see.

Andra had no trouble staring at him. She was just about Luke's height, her eyes level with his. “Does this have to do with the story you didn’t tell us yesterday?”

Luke remembered how Yoda would answer without answering, decided to try it. “What do you think?”

“I think,” she said, looking at him closely, “that you’re trying to figure out how to do this. I think,” she said again, and her tone was matter-of-fact, “that you've never taught anyone about the Force before. Have you?”

Luke looked around at the others. Helena’s expression was unreadable, her posture stiff as ever. He wondered again if she had been ordered to accept his invitation to this training. Jaspet’s face wasn't built for human expressions, but Luke couldn't help picking up on _curiosity_ and was grateful it was only that, and not concern or worse, disdain. Ariel looked uncertain, her mouth making a slight frown. 

“This is an experiment,” Andra continued, “and all of us are the tentamice. Run us through a maze and see what happens.” She tilted her head. “I’m not sure why it involves you getting hit in the face, though.”

Luke could feel himself ducking his head in embarrassment. _Dammit, I thought I'd finally grown out of doing that._ “I was practicing taking hits,” he said, aware of his face going warm. “So I'd remember what it felt like, before I asked any of you to do it.” In spite of Andra’s challenge, he couldn't help smiling at his own mistake. “I probably should have dodged that last one.”

Andrea shook her head. “Gods, you really are the nicest guy in the Rebellion, aren't you.”

There was a pause while everyone seemed to consider that. Then Andra turned and started to walk away.

Was she quitting? If this had been his starfighter squadron, Luke would have turned her around with a sharp order. But as he'd just reminded Helena, they weren't doing rank here.

Andra looked back, waved her hand in a “keep going” gesture. “I won't be long.”

He let her go. “Let's get the rest of this stuff out of here.”

About fifteen minutes later, Andra came up behind him as Luke and Jaspet were lifting the last of the heavy machine parts into a carry crate. She waited until they'd set it in place, the crate bouncing on repulsors before Jaspet gave it a push toward the edge of the room.

“Come here, Skywalker.” Andra had brought a small flexiplast bag full of crushed ice, wrapped in a piece of soft cloth. She must have gone over to the commissary. He wondered what she'd told them.

She examined his face again, then reached out to press the bag against the bruise around his eye. With her other hand she took Luke’s wrist and lifted his hand up to hold the bag in place. “There. I thought,” she added, stepping back again, “that healing was one of those Jedi things.”

It was probably too late for the ice to make much difference, but it felt good. “It's supposed to be. I never learned to do it.”

Andra nodded, briskly, like a bigger question had just been answered. “You leave that in place. The rest of us will finish up here.”

 

In half an hour the ice had melted and Luke's students had swept the floor clean. The carry crates were stacked by the wide hangar door. The place felt huge without all that debris. Footsteps echoed as Andra, Jaspet, Helena, and Ariel made a rough circle in front of him, all settling into the same cross-legged position on the floor.

This time it was Helena who spoke first. “You said you had a story, sir.”

He decided not to correct her this time. If she was more comfortable acknowledging rank, he'd let it be, for now.

Luke cast his thoughts back to that time before, to the boy he'd been, to the first day he'd held his father's lightsaber, before the Force had been a thing he knew.

He rested his hands in his lap, flesh and metal side by side.

“I was nineteen,” he began.


End file.
